Author: Brett

There it was, painted a creamy yellow color, which supposedly has the best “curb appeal”, but it did not need selling. A 1920s Colonial. From the enclosed porch to the backyard, this house was by far the nicest we had seen in the over 2 years that we have been looking. The house was draped in chestnut wood, from the ceiling beams and matching radiator covers to the banisters and railings and the second floor window seat. There were three ample bedrooms on the second floor and two additional rooms on the third, yes, the attic was finished. The kitchen was not enormous, but there was room for a small table and besides, there was the dining room, which overlooked the front porch. The cozy family room faced the back. The basement was finished. It was exquisite. We were in love.

So, we placed a bid. We did not think too long about it because we were so crazy about this house. It had come down in price, 100k, in fact, and we wondered why. Was it the busy street? The fact that it was next door to the town library? Neither the street nor the library were a negative to us, as we wanted to be close to town and felt that a more trafficked road would be safer for walking home at night from the train station or from the movie theater a few blocks away. We are avid readers and looked forward to taking the kids to the library someday. Now, we could be there all the time!

We bid the morning after, a Monday. The owners countered. We agreed to their counter offer. We decided that we would come for a second visit on Saturday and sign the contract then. The week went by. Some nerves set in on Andrew’s part—would he be able to deal with the commute? He felt that if he was still as wowed with the house as he had been the first time that he would take the house as planned and cope with the commute.

On Saturday morning, we arrived with the babies and Andrew’s mother in tow to get down to business. That’s when it all happened. As soon as we stepped through the door, the listing agent asked us to sit down and drew the owners into the other room. Then he dropped the bomb. Another bid has come in. It is slightly higher than what you are offering. And then: “What do you want to do about it?”

What do we want to do? Hmm, how does smack you in the head with your cell phone sound? Why would you make us drive all the way out here with most of our immediate family and then tell us the news? Would it have killed you to call us? He claimed that he just found out, but our first thought was that he was bullshitting us. After all, we are putting down all but 150k of the price in cash. We were sure that this news was just one last ditch effort to squeeze a few more nickels out of us. We told him that we would take another look at the house since we were already there, go to lunch, and then give him a call and let him know our answer.

After a second look, we still loved the house. Even though the owners, coffee mugs in hand, gossiped with the agent in the kitchen, preventing us from taking a look, we still saw ourselves there. Still, we felt awkward viewing the house, when we shouldn’t have. Didn’t they want to sell it?

We left and went to lunch at an Italian restaurant in town. Andrew’s mom also thought that the agent might be lying. She told us that when they were buying their house in 1965, as they were standing in the house, the owner got a call about another offer. Andrew’s uncle, who had come with them, laughed and told them to stick it. He had been right.

While I fed the babies pureed green beans and rice, Andrew called the agent to tell him that we would be staying with our agreed-upon offer. Less than 5 minutes later, the agent called back. Sorry, they decided to go with the other offer. I knew it the minute I saw Andrew’s face: He had turned a brilliant shade of pink.

It is a couple of days later and we are in mourning. We feel like we have just been broken up with, like our dream prom date told us the night before the prom that she is going with someone else. What else could we have done? We could not have bid higher—it was obvious that we were in a bidding war, and we could not part with all of our savings to buy this house. We still need to buy furniture, and a car. We are so very tired of the greed and the lack of honesty and of wasting most every weekend looking at overpriced junk boxes.

And this week, we cannot bring ourselves to look at another listing.